“So you knew you were training me?” he asked once they’d turned around at the one-mile mark.

She gestured to the clipboard still in his hand. “You’ll want to keep counting, noting any new birds you didn’t see on your way out.”

He nodded and held the board at chest level, his pencil poised over the paper.

“I didn’t have your name,” she finally said. “But Naomi told me the new volunteer was a former policeman who likes birds.” She tugged the brim of her hat down to better shade her eyes. “It could have been anyone. I told myself it wouldn’t be you.”

“If you were surprised, you hid it well.” He slowed to a stop as a flock of gulls darted up from the sand and caught the wind. He did a silent count and marked the page. “I’d say it’s good to see you, Violet, but the truth is I don’t know.” He rubbed the side of his face, the sound rough and papery. “I don’t know what I expected.”

She stilled every muscle, willing herself to remain steady. It had been so long—so many years—since anyone or anything had made her nervous. She liked it that way. This . . . stirring . . . was unpleasant. But also not.

Finally she tipped her chin up. Hold yourself together, Violet. “Well, we’re both here now, and it’s always good to have new bird-watchers who actually know about birds. I had to train a volunteer in the spring who I think was actually scared of birds. And she claimed walking in sand aggravated her migraines.”

“Why’d she sign up at all?”

“Come to find out, she thought it was a paid position. Once she realized it was purely volunteer, I never saw her again.”

He lifted the binoculars to his eyes again. “Well, I’m not scared and I walk in sand just fine.”

They walked in silence a few moments. Even though Naomi hadn’t remembered his name, even though they hadn’t seen each other in too many years to count, it was true that she hadn’t been surprised. In fact, it was just the opposite. When she heard his voice behind her, when she felt the shimmer that pulsed through her, she knew exactly who it was. It was as if no time had passed, as if they’d parted only minutes ago, their fingertips still warm from each other’s hands.

My, how it ached, being this close to him again. If anything, that was the surprise—that her sixty-six-year-old heart could beat in such a way that didn’t require a trip to the doctor.

When they made it back to the beginning of the route, Frank tried to hand the clipboard back to her, but she didn’t take it. “Keep that. You’ll use it each time.”

He tucked the board under his arm. “So we’ll meet back here in a week?”

“That’d be fine.” Her tone was clipped. Professional. This was only training, after all.

“I guess that’s it then. Are you headed back up?” He gestured toward the walkway that led back to the resort and the parking lot across the street where guests parked.